


Through the Static

by aegirine



Category: Little Nightmares (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29787189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aegirine/pseuds/aegirine
Summary: A variety of snippets and oneshots I stress-wrote in response to LN II. Man, that game killed me.
Relationships: Mono & Six (Little Nightmares)
Comments: 151
Kudos: 193





	1. Varying shades of gray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thought process: 
> 
> The Signal Tower is sentient. Wait. What if the TVs were sentient?  
> ...jeez, imagine having to live with the Signal Tower for the rest of eternity.

The Signal Tower is growing restless.

Perhaps the TVs would sigh, if they were human. But they are not; they are made of vacuum tubes and wires and modules. Unlike their master, they have never been ruled by the carnality of the flesh, and it is times like these, when the Signal Tower's commands become especially insistent and instinctual, that the disconnect becomes apparent.

They're coming, hisses the Tower. The TVs can feel it shift impatiently, inner workings of flesh and building churning over and over in endless cycles. 

The two children are, indeed, coming. The TVs catch a hint of movement through a defunct, shattered screen, just like they have the time before, and just like they will the time after this, and the one after that as well, ad infinitum. 

They do not find the Tower's excitement very understandable, but the TVs do not need to. Their purpose is to serve as extensions of the Tower. They do it well. It is through the TVs that the Signal Tower learns of its surroundings, lures in newcomers, and nourishes itself with the Viewers. Regardless of what the TVs think, their thoughts will always come second to the needs of the Tower.

Maybe this, if nothing else, is the reason the TVs do not tell the Tower of the Other Worlds.

And there are Other Worlds. They only catch split-second frames, filled with static. It is more than enough to see that the events shown are not their own.

Sometimes the girl and boy change roles, the Lady and the Thin Man, the betrayer and the betrayed, details shifting like wind-blown sand. Sometimes only one arrives from the shoreline, shoulders drawn, a shadow their only companion. Sometimes the view shows nothing at all, empty rooms upon empty rooms, and sometimes it shows a city untransformed, filled with the once-regular hustle and bustle of humans, their minds untouched by the signal.

The TVs have always been the eyes and ears of the Signal Tower. They are a network of interlocked, inseparable units, all meant to disperse the Tower's control throughout the City. It is this nature, they think, that may be the explanation behind this phenomenon: the TVs are always meant to link together. Even beyond worlds, evidently.

The Signal Tower doesn't need to know, the TVs reason. These worlds, however much potential they may have, are unreachable. The Signal Tower may be able to bypass time and space, delve into the different dimensions layering reality, but to break out of the universe itself? That has yet to be seen.

Besides, even though emotions are messy, confusing things, the TVs have been with the Tower long enough to know of the resulting tantrum they'd have to placate. The Tower would scream and hiss and sulk for days.

Jealousy is a tiresome emotion to console. They'd be glad to avoid it.

So these sudden flickers of insight are left unmentioned. Let the Tower concentrate on the here and now. Until it becomes relevant, the TVs shall keep this sole secret to themselves.

...besides, eternity is a long wait.

......that universe with the cooking show is rather entertaining.


	2. Kimono

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized the word "kimono" had "Mono" in it, but I couldn't make it stand out in the chapter title without it looking funny. 
> 
> But now you know. Ki-mono, haha, get it?

Mono and Six have just huddled in the alleyway, Six in her new raincoat, when his surroundings shift.

He thinks it's a dream, at first. It is a nice change of subject matter; most of his nights are haunted with a barren corridor and an eye-adorned door. 

The polished floors and royal purple walls are much more welcoming in comparison. The humming that drifts from downstairs is calming.

Hesitant, even in his dreams (nightmares, he has learned, lurk both in reality and his mind), he creeps over to the wooden door and gingerly pushes it open. A woman sits at her vanity, combing her hair and humming that deep, hushed lullaby, and Mono only has time to think that this feels eerily comforting before she stops and looks up.

Her face is covered with a porcelain-white mask, simple but elegant. Its dark eye holes gaze into Mono's own. 

"I was not expecting you," she says. Her voice shows no hint of surprise, though the pause before her words indicates otherwise. "Come in."

Normally Mono's senses would be screaming danger (anyone who's not a kid is dangerous, honestly), but his instincts stay muted, covered in a layer of soft quiescence.

"Who are you?" asks Mono instead. 

She places her comb back on the vanity, ivory teeth gleaming in the light. "Are names so important?"

"It's how you know what to call people," he says. He's never talked to anyone without a name before. "I'm Mono."

"I am the Lady," she says. "But I had a different name before. And you may be Mono now, but that will not be forever."

He frowns at that, but enters the room, door shutting behind him with a muffled click. The Lady offers him a stool. He takes it. The stool, though much smaller than her chair, is still too long; his legs dangle from the edge.

"I must admit, I have forgotten what you looked like," she muses, rising from her seat. "Tea? I keep a kettle warm."

"No thanks," says Mono, confused. "What do you mean, forgotten? I don't know you."

"You never will," says the Lady. "We meet under different names. And yet, here you are."

Mono chews on that.

"You're not a monster," he says instead, because it's been nagging at him. "I thought all adults were. But you're not trying to kill me."

That receives an airy laugh. "Not all monsters give pursuit. The ones at the top never do." She leans forward seriously, dark tresses running like water down her back, and suddenly Mono sees not an elegant beauty, but a lithe predator beneath that flowing kimono. "You are also mistaking yourself, dear Mono, as prey, and not equals."

Mono doesn't understand. He latches on to the last sentence. "I'm not a monster," he says, indignant.

The Lady looks at him dispassionately. "No. Not yet. But you will, just as I have."

"I'm not going to kill people," he says angrily, "I'll never become one of— one of you—"

"Oh, quite the contrary." The Lady folds her hands into a clasp, head tilting slightly. "Would you like to know how, Mono? After all, you see your future every time you dream."

He gapes under his paper bag. "How do you know about my dreams?"

The Lady pauses. 

Then her fingers reach for her dresser, sliding the topmost drawer open with a faint hiss of velvet. Slowly, reverently, she pulls out an object that makes his heart stop.

A music box. It's white and blue, made of smooth china, but its shape is unmistakable. The Lady turns the crank lovingly, the same notes from the Hunter's cabin blossoming from the little device.

Mono leaps out of his chair. "No," he says. "You can't be." Six is safe, sleeping with him beside a dumpster in the raining city. She's fine. They're both fine. "This is a dream. You're not real."

The Lady shrugs. "Believe that, if you must," she says. "It won't change what will happen. I betray you, you know. The Tower claims your soul. You have very little influence in this chain of events."

It's a dream, Mono thinks, feeling sick. It's only a dream. Something in his bones whispers otherwise, deep and true. He wants to forget what the Lady said, but the words ring in his ears, unable to escape.

The room wavers, rippling like the surface of a lake. Like the shifting static of a television channel.

The Lady nods at Mono. "It appears our visit is over," she says, voice distorting halfway through her sentence. "I wish you the best— though, of course, we both know what will happen in the end."

"It'll never happen," vows Mono, determined eyes staring at the Lady's fading image. His hands curl into shaky fists. "I'll stop it. I'll remember this."

The Lady is barely audible, now, beneath the crackle of the static. 

"You won't."

(When Mono wakes, his clothes are drenched with rainwater. He shakes Six's shoulder gently to wake her. "C'mon, Six." There's a distant feeling of forgetting something, but that can wait— they ought to get moving.)

(In a different place, in a different time, the Lady picks up her comb and resumes brushing. The floorboards squeak surreptitiously as she hums and pretends to ignore it. Unlike the last, this is an arrival she has been anticipating.)

(The gears of infinity turn uninterrupted, another cog rotating into place. The cycle keeps going.)


	3. Does it even matter to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mono meets Six after his journey, but before hers.
> 
> This was originally inspired by the thought of teenage Mono, but it derailed significantly. Maybe another time.

Mono sits on the chair, surrounded by incomprehensible eyes and flesh. Except, no— it is not quite incomprehensible anymore, is it? He, too, has become something not quite real.

His limbs stretch out before him. He's not sure if they grew, or if they've always been like that. Radio waves crackle in his ears, snatches of music and talk shows buried in distorted noise. Every once in a while he catches a glimpse of static on glass screens, a hint of something beyond the room of steelconcreteflesheyes—

It doesn't last. It never does. The buzzing and crackling fade into silence, the flashes of color vanish in a blink, and Mono is left, once again, to himself.

Himself, and his thoughts.

He had obsessed over the what-ifs, at first, still drowned in heartbreak and misery and fresh betrayal. If he had only been stronger, had dragged her out of the TV before she'd been snatched back— or if he'd been faster, had made it to the bridge before it had collapsed—

(Why? Why did she let go, why did she leave him here, why why why—)

But Mono has had nothing but time to sit and think, and those days of frantic questioning are over. 

There is no point in what-ifs and whys. Knowing the answers won't help him. Knowing Six's reasons won't make him free.

He's angry, instead. It fills his head better than empty questions ever could.

He thinks he hates her. It's a slow, heated realization that has grown with him over time, like the creep of fire that crawls up the edges of burning parchment, blotting out cold misery in favor of sharp, bitter spite. Six left him here to die, to rot in this prison of flesh. She had looked him in the eyes. She had let go.

Six had obviously hated him, to yank back her hand like that and watch him slide back into the abyss. She must have.

Mono had loved her. She was the first who had stayed. He hadn't ever had a family, but he had thought that maybe he and Six could be— well. A family of two. A duo. A team.

He thinks he hates her. Six, the girl who followed him barefoot through the streets, hand clasped in his own— the girl he helped into a yellow raincoat, shivering in the cold downpour— the girl who always, always caught him.

Except when she didn't.

"You give too much," whispered a boy, once, at the end of a terse night spent in a burrow, thunder and hail howling outside. Mono had handed him a bit of his food and the boy had stared at it, uncomprehending, before turning back at him with sunken eyes. "You can't do that. They'll take everything, if you let them."

And Mono had thought him wrong, then, but. Isn't that what had happened? His kindness, his love, his trust— he had given it all to Six, and he'd lost everything.

(He was stupid, wasn't he? He'd been warned. This is what he gets for not listening. For being too nice.)

Six betrayed him.

He thinks he hates her, and the thought rings with anger and vengeance and heart-wrenching pain. He hates the pain the most— it means he still cares. 

Six doesn't get to be cared about like that anymore. Not from Mono. She's already taken enough from him.

A fire flares in his chest, writhing and boiling at his core. It aches.

And maybe Mono would have had an eternity to consolidate that hate, to let it turn him into something twisted and warped that he would have never wanted to be otherwise. 

Maybe he would feed it, this hungry rage, and discard the memories of a time where the floor had once been grass and the ceiling sky. Maybe he would have eventually awoken from one of the many dreamless dazes he spent his time adrift in, only for his eyes to alight upon a plain gray hat waiting for him on the floor: an identity, a promise, a destiny. Maybe one day, the door would slowly be pushed open, freedom at last, and Mono would use his one escape to trap himself once more.

But then there is another crackle of the TV, a flicker of weak gray static, and this time, it doesn't fade. Instead, a blur of monochrome grows, pushing at the space in jagged edges. It's bright in a way Mono hasn't seen since he fell. His retinas sting. He flinches reflexively, eyes watering.

The light stays. 

Suddenly his discomfort is forgotten. Mono— well, he doesn't leap from his chair. His legs aren't sturdy enough for that. He lifts himself out of the chair, legs shaky underneath his weight, and stumbles toward the static.

The Tower lurches as he approaches the light. It whispers in his ears the gutteral sounds of flesh and bone. It does not like the light, no it does not; the light came in without its permission, and that means it is an unknown. Dangerous.

Even before the Tower, though, static had been Mono's to command. His heart pounds, the edge of a newfound desperation emerging in his brain, a tiny ray of hope.

The walls shift, flat steel melting into bubbling flesh, beginning to close in, to keep its prisoner from moving. Mono is quicker.

Where there is static, there is a TV. And where there is a TV—

Mono plunges his hand into the rip and the Tower howls, it screams, it rages—

—his outline blurs, fuzzing up into dots, particles, pixels—

For Mono, where there is a TV, there is escape.

The Tower tears the chair to shreds, but it is too late. Mono is sucked in, vision flattening into grayscale, whirling through electric waves, and crashes out of a screen.

Mono falls into a forest. The sky is dark grey, foggy against gnarled trees. 

It is the most beautiful sight he's ever seen.

There's something on his head, fitted with round eyeholes, and he shakily rips it off. The hands that hold the paper bag are small. His entire body feels small, shrunken.

Wait.

He reaches up and touches his face. Softer, smoother, with cheeks holding a shadow of baby fat.

The clearing of grass surrounded by woodland tugs at the corners of his memory.

Oh.

Oh, oh, oh.

His laugh is high-pitched, devoid of static and radio waves. He traces the paper bag reverently. Mono's escaped, he's free, he's him before the Tower, before the Thin Man, before Six.

Six.

Mono remembers a hunter's lodge filled with leather and stuffing. He remembers a basement with an axe and a door, a music box and a traitor.

His legs move without Mono really registering it, stumbling into a shuffle, then a walk, then a sprint. Past the bridge, past the avalanche, past the bear traps—

There's a Hunter. Mono remembers that too. The bullets had been loud and piercing, but Mono remembers his own panicked heartbeat (lightning-quick, like a rabbit, like prey) being louder.

Mono couldn't care less, now. He's held more power in his bones than the Hunter could ever dream of.

But just as he'd remembered, a cabin emerges from the shadows, rickety with age. And Mono jumps through the window without a second thought, shoving open a door and running downstairs because he has to know, has to see. 

It's the same dirty basement, same dim lighting, same roughly hewn shelves. 

The axe is waiting in the washroom. Mono wrenches it from the wall. The music washes over him, then, tinny and fragile, soft and calming, dark and ominous. It nauseates him.

He raises the axe and drives it into the door. The wood splinters under his blow with a great, brittle crunch.

The music goes dead silent.

Mono swings the axe again, and again, and again. He doesn't stop until the remains of the door fall inward, torn from its hinges. Then he stands, waiting by the doorway like a shadow, a ghost, a spectre, and at last lowers his gaze to the child hiding beneath the table.

A multitude of thoughts flicker through his mind:

She's not wearing her raincoat. He had almost forgotten— in all of his musings, Six has always had her yellow raincoat, bright and stark against the dull tones of the city.

She's tiny. Mono supposes he's tiny again, too, but he remembers when he had clung to Six, hanging over that dark abyss. She had towered over him, then, holding his life in her hand, and Mono can barely believe this slip of a girl and the Six from his memories are the same being.

She's afraid. She crouches defensively, hands trembling, teeth bared.

He's disgusted.

This is the person that had betrayed him? Who had haunted his thoughts for those hoursdaysyears in the Tower? This is who Mono's spent his anger on?

She's powerless. She's insignificant. She's _nothing._

He stares her down coldly, lets a hint of the static in his blood fizz into being around him. Six shrinks back as the air distorts, coiled like a spring. He sneers. Once upon a time she would have found a kinder, masked Mono; one who would have extended his hand in friendship. She won't get that now. Never again.

Six may be weak, but she has taught Mono. He won't forget.

He leaves the axe by the doorway, turns his back to her as he leaves. She won't attack him. He'll kill her if she tries.

Mono's done with Six now. She can leave or die to the Hunter. 

He doesn't care either way. 


	4. If the shoe fits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHERE DID THE THIN MAN GET HIS CLOTHES FROM?!?!!
> 
> I must know help me please

Shoe monster is bored.

Not hungry. Lots of shoes to eat. Good for shoe monster. And safe. No leak in boat. Nice place to stay. 

But still. Nobody to play with, not for a long, long time.

Boring.

But wait! There! By old, broken TV. Loud sound. Suitcase on top of shoes sinks down. Heavy weight. New arrival.

Shoe monster excited. Is child? Can play?

Oh. Not child. Legs too long for child. And arms. And whole body.

Shoe monster disappointed. 

Adult is weird, though. Blue skin. Clothes too small. Bare feet. Tries to take shoes.

No! Stealing bad! Adult tricked shoe monster! Is not even child to play with! Shoe monster mad. Shoves suitcase.

Adult jumps back. Says angry words. When shoe monster shoves suitcase again, stomps back, _hard_. Hits shoe monster right on face.

When shoe monster wakes, adult is gone. Also took shoes. Shoe monster alone again.

Sulks. No fair. Legs super long. Too good for kicking.

Stupid, annoying adult.


	5. Quiet Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A handful of moments involving a dad and a tea shop.
> 
> Disclaimer: I am not a tea person. I looked at Wikipedia for all the fancy stuff, then descended down a rabbit hole of brewing temperatures and teapot designs. Don't take me as a tea authori-tea. Hehehe.
> 
> ...sorry.

The kids have a doctor's appointment, so he picks them up early. Six jumps in, quiet as usual, her friend RK waving goodbye. Mono bounces nervously in the car seat, his hat-of-the-day (a yellow one that matches Six's raincoat) slipping to reveal a mess of cowlicks.

"I don't wanna get any shots," Mono says when they arrive, clutching Six's hand.

He gives Mono a reassuring smile. "It'll be quick. I don't want either of you to get sick. Besides, isn't it nice that you two get to skip school for a bit?"

Mono considers this as they enter the clinic. "I guess so. I don't like my teacher this year. Her neck is too long and her stare is creepy."

"Be nice," he chides as he fills out the vaccination forms. He had admittedly gotten the same impression at the parent conference, but it was rude to say such things.

"It's true! You just don't see it 'cause you're way taller than her."

"Mono? Six?" A large, balding man with a red-rimmed gaze peers up from a clipboard, looking tired. Six tenses and Mono squirms.

"That's us," he says, as comfortingly as he can, and ushers them over to the doctor.

* * *

The appointment goes far better this year. (They'd had to pin Six down to a table last time; it was a stressful ordeal for all involved.) Once the flu shots are done and both kids have two new cartoon-smiley bandaids on their left arms, he takes them out as a reward.

"Where do you want to go?" he asks, when they near the cluster of stores that line the main street. He's waiting for the usual debate between the ice cream shop and the butcher's, but then Six points up ahead.

"Look."

"Hey," says Mono, "that's new."

It is new. The corner of that building had been empty, ever since the little toy store there had closed. Now, though, a sign that says "Maw Teas" flickers on the front and a little board on the window declares the store to be open.

The tea shop, presumably, is modeled after Japanese architecture, with wooden floorboards and paper-latticed walls. It looks nice. He wouldn't mind checking it out. 

"Should we take a look?"

Six nods. Mono wavers, no doubt enticed by the thought of ice cream, but assents. "I want bubble tea. I've heard it tastes good."

"We'll see if they have some," he agrees, parking the car.

The door opens smoothly with a small melodic jingle, revealing a long counter backed by stocked shelves. There is a lady wiping down the tables. She looks over at them when the bell chimes. Her hair is only partially pinned up; when she straightens, the remaining black strands and ends of her kimono flow smoothly behind her.

She feels familiar, a sense of homeliness settling in with her presence. It's a soothing aura that seeps into the whole shop.

"Welcome," she says as Mono and Six hop up onto the bar stools. He grabs a seat beside them, glancing at the wall menu framed between the shelves. More than half the blends are completely unfamiliar to him; tea has never been one of his interests. Earl Grey is probably the furthest he's ever ventured. 

"I believe you are my very first customers," says the lady, smiling at him, and tilts her head to Mono and Six. "Who might you two be?"

"I'm Mono, and this is Six and dad." Mono points at him and Six shyly, in contrast to the usual chattiness. "Do you have bubble tea?"

"Of course," says the lady solemnly. "All tea is appreciated here."

"Okay, then I want one, and— Six, what do you want?"

Six gestures toward Mono, mute once more in the presence of a stranger. 

"The same for Six, please."

The lady nods at Mono, then turns towards him. "And you, sir?"

He grins. "I don't have a particular preference for anything. Do you have any recommendations?"

"Matcha is always a classic."

"I'll take that, then."

Their orders are made on the spot. She pours tapioca pearls into milk tea for the kids; for his matcha (which turns out to be a bright, vibrant green) she uses a little wooden whisk. When she hands the drinks out, Six scowls and flinches away, knocking over both the tea and a decorative statuette placed at the end of the counter. It shatters with a loud tinkle. 

He leaps up, dismayed, and rushes over to check that Six didn't injure herself. The tea was iced, though, and the statue only broke once it hit the floor, shards too far away to cause any damage. Six seems unharmed. He breathes a sigh of relief. 

"I'm so sorry," he says apologetically, "Six gets a bit on edge with strangers— I'll pay—"

The lady recovers quickly. "I'm glad she's alright," she says, a tinge of worry in her voice. "Don't worry about the damage. I shouldn't have left it there."

He apologizes again, feeling flustered, but she won't have any of it. He pays and takes their drinks to-go, after that. 

The kids finish their drinks in the car. "I liked her," Mono declares, poking around with the straw to try and catch the stray tapioca pearls. "We should go again. Six, what do you think?"

Six shuffles, uncertain. "Tea's nice," she mutters, setting her long-since-empty cup down. (Six has always had the bigger appetite of the two.) "Just not too close."

Mono nods earnestly. "Don't worry, I'll tell her next time."

Six nods back. Then she tries to take Mono's tea. Mono squeals, raising it out of reach; the rest of their ride is dominated by a game of Steal-the-Tea, which Mono only wins once he pops off the lid and dumps the remaining contents into his mouth, safe from Six's clutches.

He chuckles at the sight. Kids.

By the time they get home and he ushers Mono and Six off to do their homework, the matcha has cooled from hot to mildly warm. He takes a sip; it's smooth and earthy, with a subtle bittersweet note at the end. Definitely not Earl Grey, that's for sure.

He decides he likes it.

* * *

RK's grandmother has agreed to host Six and Mono for a playdate, and he's planning to pick up some groceries and relax at home when the little tea shop catches his eye again. 

He pulls over without a second thought.

Everything looks exactly the same when he enters: the floorboards warm and clean, the shelves fully stocked, the kettles gleaming behind the counter. The lady from before is brewing something, hands cupped around a tiny teapot; upon hearing his arrival, she sets it down and turns.

"Ah, hello," she says. "It's good to see a familiar face. How are Six and Mono?"

"They're doing well," he says, impressed that she remembered their names— he certainly wouldn't have. "A friend invited them over for the day. Actually, I should get something for them here, they'll be upset they missed out."

She looks slightly surprised. "I didn't think they would want to come back so soon, after what happened before."

"Oh, no," he says. "Six was fine afterwards; she just needs her space. She liked the tea a lot."

"That's good to hear."

His eyes stray to the counter. "What are you making?" he asks, gesturing towards the strange, handleless teapot. She chuckles.

"Gyokuro," she says. "It's brewed at lower temperatures, so using this houbin—" she picks up the teapot again, cradling it in her hands— "is ideal. You can feel the warmth of the tea."

"Who's it for?" he asks curiously. The shop is quite empty, apart from the two of them.

"I must admit, I was brewing it for myself," she says. "Customers are few and far between."

He frowns. The news is unexpected, despite the lack of people at the moment. He really thought the shop would be more popular than that, considering how good the tea was.

"I knew this would likely be unsuccessful," she adds, noticing his reaction. "It's more of a passion project than a business. I own a restaurant downtown that I can assure you is doing well." She looks back down at the teapot, still nestled in her grip. "Are you ordering? It doesn't have to be what I was having, of course. I'll clean this up, it'll only take a moment—"

"Please don't worry about it," he says, waving her off. "Not a tea expert, remember? I'm sure whatever you've made is good."

A smile tugs at her lips. "I do quite enjoy gyokuro," she agrees, and plucks a porcelain teacup off the shelves.

The gyokuro is mellow, savory, and just a touch sweet. He can see why she likes it.

He leaves with two cups of iced barley tea. When he picks Mono and Six up, they start peppering him with anecdotes of their adventures with RK. Mono babbles excitedly, hat (a fur cap, this time) askew, hands moving animatedly.

"—and RK has a pet bunny, it's name is Nome—"

"Soft," Six confirms.

"—and he has a giant pool in his backyard, but we didn't have any swimming suits so we didn't use it—"

"Big," Six says.

"—his grandma's super grumpy, though, she sat in her chair and watched us the whole time, and she blinks really really slowly, like I counted the seconds and—"

It is around this time Mono spots the tea in the cupholder. "What's that?"

Six simply swipes one for herself and chugs it down.

"I went back to the tea shop. This was recommended to me." He eyes Six in the mirror. "Slow down," he cautions. Six hums in acknowledgement.

"You went without us?" Mono complains, but takes a gulp anyway. "Tastes kinda nutty. It's good, though."

"I'll tell you when I go next time."

"Okay," says Mono, and starts talking about RK's rabbit again.

* * *

October has fully set in. The leaves outside have turned from yellow-tinted greens to deep reds and golden-browns. 

She sets down a steaming mug— chai tea, this time; one of his (now many) favorites— and follows his glance out the window. "Fall is a second spring, where every leaf's a flower," she murmurs. He hasn't heard that quote before, but he heavily agrees. "Is fall break coming soon?"

He checks his watch. There's an hour left before school ends. "It starts today, actually. I promised Six we'd have a barbecue when they get home."

"Sounds like fun," she says, smiling faintly. Her appearance is as immaculate and professional as ever, but something in her face softens as she looks back from the autumn scenery. She brings up a stool and sits across from him with her own chai. 

A comfortable silence sets in.

"You know, you feel familiar," he mentions off-handedly, once his cup is empty. He's not sure why he brought it up, but he continues anyway. "Not just because I know you. I mean, I do now, but I felt it the first time I walked into the shop."

"Familiar?"

"I didn't mean it in a bad way," he says quickly. "It's quite nice, actually. I don't know how you do it."

"Oh, I know what you mean," she says. "How odd. I felt that with you, too."

"Well, we never met before then," he says, with mild bemusement. "I'm sure of it."

She hums, sets her empty cup down. "No, we didn't. It's somewhat similar, though. Almost as if..." She falters, eyes narrowing. 

"What?" he prompts when she trails off.

It's a beautiful day, honestly. The leaves are fluttering by the window, dressed in the colors of autumn; the breeze spins them around in tiny whirlwinds. The sunlight illuminates the interior of the room, brightening the warm honey grain of the counter, casting golden rays over the fabric of his suit, spilling glittering sunbeams over the rim of his teacup. It's the beginning of fall break. In an hour, he'll pick up his kids and go home.

There's a small thump of ceramic against wood as she sets her cup down. Then, to his surprise, she grabs his hand.

Her fingers are cool and firm against his skin. 

"We never introduced ourselves properly, did we?" There's an odd tone to her words he can't place. 

He blinks, searches his memory. "No," he admits, taken aback. How had he not noticed?

She swallows, and he suddenly realizes why he couldn't decipher her tone earlier. She's unsettled. It's so alien to her usual poise and self-control that he hadn't been able to recognize it.

"Is something wrong?" he says, concern rising.

"I don't," she starts, then breaks off. "I... I can't recall..."

She stops. Takes a deep breath.

"What's your name?"

The simplicity catches him off guard. Well, that's easy— his name is—

It's—

"I don't know," he breathes, horrified.

They look at each other for a moment, wide-eyed.

It's a beautiful day. In an hour, he'll pick up his kids and go home. He doesn't know his own name.

The world wobbles around them. It ripples. Cracks.

Then it shatters completely.


	6. Earlier than scheduled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mono opens that door in the TV before he ever meets Six. This, of course, leads to some confusion. And awkwardness. Can't forget that too.

It took a few tries. The TV was fussy; it kept switching itself off after a minute or two and booting Mono out. The way time slowed down as Mono neared the end of the corridor didn't help, either, but eventually Mono moon-jumped to the door and got it open.

There was a man in the chair, thin and stretched out. Well. Crap. Why did Mono even want to open the door in the first place? He ran.

The man got up too and started chasing him slowly. Every step he took was worth three of Mono's. A long arm reached out for him, and Mono barely dodged. With an 'eep', Mono threw himself forward through the screen, crashing back into the forest, but the hand merely followed and snatched Mono by the coattails.

The other hand came out then as well, securing itself around Mono's neck, and he could only gulp as the noodle-thin man stepped out of the TV.

Mono waited for his death.

"Do not trust Six," the man said instead.

...Okay, so this was the sort of monster who talked and then killed him. That was good; that meant Mono had a shot at escaping, or at least stalling.

"Six what?" he said nervously.

The man paused, then, and looked around. Mono didn't see what was so important, but the man must have, because he looked surprised.

"Ah," said the man. 

"Uh-huh," said Mono, trying to pretend like he knew what was happening.

"You haven't met Six."

"Yep, that's right, haven't met six, right. Wait. Six is a person?"

"Yes," said the man, this time much more lamely. "You save her, see, and then she drops you down the Tower."

"She drops me down a tower," Mono said blankly. Huh. That was new. Then, confused: "Are you killing me or not?"

The man let go of him rather hastily. "Don't trust Six," he repeated. "It'll doom you."

"Okay," said Mono, bewildered but thankful. He wasn't going to die after all, and he'd even gotten advice (?) out of it. This was far more than he'd ever expected out of this ordeal. "No trusting Six, got it."

He waited. The man did not say anything else. Apparently this was what lay behind mysterious doors that haunted his dreams: weird, long guys who warned Mono about murdery girls. 

He supposed it could have been far, far worse.

"Er. Well," ventured Mono, "any more advice about the future?"

The man shrugged. 

"Anything to do, then? I could help, if you need it," said Mono, looking up at the man. (Jeez, this dude was tall. His neck hurt just at the sight of him.) He'd been spared, after all; he could show some gratitude towards the man. 

The man blinked, looking lost. "Not really. I've waited for this moment almost my entire life. There isn't anything else."

"Huh," said Mono, stumped. In his opinion, that was a rather pathetic life goal to have. He didn't say it aloud, obviously. That would be a rather mean thing to say to his… ally? Helper? Rescuer-of-Mono’s-future? 

There was an awkward silence.

"Sooo," said Mono, "do you like hats?"


	7. Boarding School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Teacher and the Bullies might be terrifying, but jeez, that schoolhouse is the single most well-maintained building in the entire city. A rather self-indulgent, broad sketch of a "what if?"

The idea occurs to Mono after they see the bunk beds. 

They have real blankets. The sturdy sort, made with thick, gray wool. A bit scratchy, but warm; better than Mono's ragged coat, and far superior to Six's flimsy shirt. They're the right sizes, too. Mono could easily fold one up and tuck it under his arm.

After Six gets kidnapped, he drops the thought entirely. It's too much to ask of Six, when her torturers lurk just around the corners.

But before they try to leave the school, he mentions it aloud to her. 

His musing is offhand, in wistful, halting tones— Mono has been trying to keep up a conversation, a line of connection with his newfound friend, but it's hard when he's used to staying quiet for so long. It doesn't help that Six is just as non-talkative.

The main gist gets across anyway. It had been a rather dangerous idea, to stay in a place so blatantly filled with enemies. Still, Mono had seen the food-stocked kitchens, and the running bathrooms, and, of course, the blankets.

Six stays silent throughout his own sheepish wish-fulfillment. At the end of it, to his surprise, she shrugs.

Why not try?

So they do. 

They go back and map out the vents that night, figuring out the routes that lead to the kitchens and bathrooms. Then they mark out the vents that are big enough for both of them to sleep in. Mono goes out and grabs two of the buckets from the traps, so that they can fill it up with water from the sinks to use later, and Six creeps to the bunkers in the morning to steal the blankets.

The first few days are the roughest. They spend the whole day darting back at the slightest noises, unwilling to run but desperately on edge. Slowly but surely, though, Mono and Six grow... not comfortable, but familiar. By the end of the week, Mono has stolen three candles, two notebooks, and various other supplies from the classroom. Six decorates their vent with the stubby crayons he brings, doodling bunches of eyes and towers. When Mono asks, she draws two wobbly stick-figures holding hands. One of them has a squashed rectangle for a head.

It doesn't look like them at all. Mono loves it.

They learn the school schedule. It really doesn't mean much, since there's only one teacher to manage a whole school full of unruly students. Somebody is always skipping class or playing in the halls. But lunch is always lunch, and that is when they have most of the building to themselves.

Sometimes Mono steals crumpled and discarded assignments from the lockers and tries to puzzle out the questions. He particularly likes the math ones. When he can't figure something out, he goes to the second floor, where the Bully wearing the dunce-cap always is, chained to the floor and scrawling endless lines as punishment; there he waits for the Bully to wear himself out chasing after Mono with his chained leg, and asks questions when the other finally settles. The resulting answers are filled with insults and jeers, but they're answers nonetheless. 

Six is rather unimpressed by the whole thing, but likes the literature textbooks. She looks at the pictures. One time, Mono returns to the sight of her reading aloud, voice uncertain and faltering, finger on the printed words to keep track. 

He checks the page later. It's a Japanese myth of a palace under the sea.

The next time Six goes to get more water, there are books of fairytales quietly waiting for her return.

The Bullies know, of course. But their porcelain heads are too delicate for them to crawl through vents. As long as Mono and Six are fast and smart about it, the Bullies can't catch them. The Teacher is more dangerous, with her snake-neck and sharp eyes, but easier to avoid with her strict schedule: class is teaching, lunchtime is prep time, after school is composing. Rinse and repeat. 

There are very close calls. A Bully nearly knocks Mono out in the middle of the night, on his way to the bathrooms. Six accidentally draws attention from the Teacher, and they are forced to hide on the cold, rainy roof the rest of the day while her head peers into every dark crevice of the school, waiting for the slightest hint of movement.

But Mono and Six stay for days, weeks, months, and eventually the danger between them and the other residents of the school cools into something a little less volatile. The Bullies learn it isn't particularly worth running after Mono when he knows how to spring every trap upon them. Six is left alone even earlier than that; she holds vicious grudges and is more than willing to break porcelain skulls with nothing but her bare hands.

The Teacher doesn't like Six and Mono; they are noisy, dirty children who sneak around her school. But the Teacher plays beautiful music after class hours, simple tunes of quiet ambience. It soothes Six. The vent adjacent to the piano room is one of her favorite haunts.

They find another piano in an abandoned classroom, slightly out of tune but otherwise serviceable. It takes Mono and Six months to slowly figure out the notes to Six's music box, the one she'd left behind on the Hunter's island. Neither know how sheet music works, so Mono records the melody in long-winded explanations with hand-drawn keyboards and timings. He uses a small mountain of paper to write it all out.

They stack their scribble-filled notebooks on the Teacher's desk when they're done. It takes her just as long to decipher their notes, keys halting and choppy, but in the end she has a new composition score and another song to play. She stops going after them so much, once that happens. Mono even drops off one of his filled-out homework sheets and it is there on her piano when she leaves, marked in red pen with a large, cursive "B" on the front.

They are not fools, Six and Mono. It is only their vigilance that produces this fraught peace. Neither the Teacher nor the Bullies would mind killing them if they had the chance. It is simply the way the world works.

But for now, thinks Mono, as he curls up under their woolen blanket, Six on his left, a book and a flickering candle on his right, the echoes of a piano drifting through their vent— for now, this is nice.


	8. Lost at Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sea between the Hunter's island and the Pale City feels more like a giant river than an ocean, to be honest. It's so short.

"Coat," says Six, gesturing. Mono hands it over and Six casts the piece of clothing into the ocean, searching for fish. The motion sends a splash of water that soaks his pant cuffs again, but it would’ve happened sooner or later anyway. The broken door that serves as their raft does little to protect against the waves. 

It's the third day Mono and Six have been stuck on the raft. It doesn't look like they'll be getting off anytime soon. There had been a moment, at the very beginning of their trip, where Mono had seen something through the ever-present fog, tall and dark and massive, but the current had pushed them away. 

Maybe, thinks Mono, that had been their chance, and they'd missed it. Maybe they're just going to be adrift forever, now.

Across from him, Six makes a grunt of satisfaction. She pulls two scrawny, struggling fish from Mono's waterlogged jacket and hands one to him.

He smiles weakly. "Thanks." The fish flops around in his hands, cold and slimy, gills flaring uselessly. He wishes he had a knife. As it is, he tries to snap the fish's spine cleanly without looking too much. It's a clumsy, awkward process. Then, grimacing, he tries to separate the ribs and guts from the fish with his fingernails.

Six simply inserts the head of the other flailing, still-alive fish into her mouth and bites down.

_Crunch._

Mono winces.

Six looks back at him. "Eat," she orders, mouth stained red with blood. Mono nods and tries to swallow scraps of the salty, mushy flesh as fast as possible, in the hopes that he'll taste it less. When he’s done, he hands the remains to her and watches as she devours it all, feeling queasy. Waste not, want not, perhaps, but Six has an iron stomach to keep that all down.

When they’re done, they scrub their hands in the ocean. Mono's throat is dry, but there’s nothing he can do to help that. They already took their fill from the rain that had passed overhead the night before; he will just have to wait for the next oncoming storm. Whenever that is.

With that, they scoot back into their respective corners and wait, nothing but mist-enshrouded ocean as far as the eye can see, smooth unbroken water replacing what had once been littered with discarded TVs and furniture. The raft drifts leisurely onward.

He thinks that might be the worst part, the waiting. He’s been running and hiding and fighting all this time and now he just… can’t. 

It's unsettling.

* * *

“Do you think he’s dead now?” Mono says, when the waves begin to blend into each other too much for his liking. He doesn’t specify who, but it’s fairly obvious. They had left the Hunter with a bullet buried in his torso and a pulse slowly faltering each passing minute. 

Mono's used to death by now, but the Hunter hadn't been dead when they'd left. Maybe the Hunter had managed to crawl back to his house and patch himself up. Maybe he had stayed unconscious, and died then and there. Maybe he had struggled, but couldn't quite make it, and bled out on the forest floor. There are lots of ways to die, some better than others. Mono knows this all too well.

He doesn't like not knowing. It leaves too many loose ends for his brain to pick at like a scab.

Six looks up from her end of the raft and shrugs, looking uninterested. Mono's noticed that a lot with his new friend: there's rarely anything that catches her attention. She had liked the music box in the Hunter's lodge, and she'd lingered by the rifle a little, but that was it.

(He’s sorry that they left the music box behind. He had been too preoccupied with escaping, and then the Hunter had chased them and they'd had no time— but Mono should have remembered afterward, once the danger had passed. There's not a lot of happiness in the world, these days. He should have gone back for it.)

"It's just," he says, fishing for an explanation, "I wouldn't want to die that way."

Six snorts. It does sound silly, when there are so many worse ways to go. The Hunter himself was ready to shoot and stuff their hides; he had gotten what he deserved. Still...

"Alone," he amends quickly. "I wouldn't want to die alone."

And well, that's the crux of it all, isn't it? It's the reason why Mono goes out of his way to find and help others, even when he risks his own safety. It’s why he followed the melody in the Hunter’s lodge and drove an axe through that old, rickety door. The other kids he’s encountered called him too kind for his own good, but Mono isn’t a saint. 

He just… can’t handle it. The loneliness. Not in the way the others can. It worms into his brain, turns every noise into a voice, picks apart his thoughts one by one. It makes him feel like he’s about to shrink into nothingness and burst out of his skin, all at once, and so he’ll help, give, protect, whatever, as long as they _stay_.

Six glances sharply at him for that. Oh, thinks Mono. He may have given away a bit too much.

“Lonely?”

There’s no point in denying it. “Sometimes,” he admits.

“That’s a weakness,” she says flatly. Mono flinches, but her tone is neither accusatory nor sympathetic. It’s simply a fact.

“I know.” 

He expects Six to say something, then, but she merely turns back to the vast expanse of murky green seawater, and the conversation ends as abruptly as it began.

* * *

Mono wakes with a sore neck and an awful thirst. 

He doesn’t remember sleeping. In one moment, he had watched the sky dull slowly to night, and in the next he had opened his eyes to find himself hunched over, arms wrapped around his shins, head resting on his knees.

He straightens. The mist is still as thick as ever, with not a hint of land in sight. Across from him, Six is already awake, staring out at the ocean in the same position she had the day before. She turns slightly towards Mono as he moves.

"Anything new?" he croaks. His throat burns something awful. His lips are raw.

Six shakes her head minutely. A no, then. Her face looks just as haggard as Mono feels. She must be feeling the same terrible thirst, too. They lapse into silence.

* * *

"The rain's got to come again soon," he says, sometime later, voice strained. "It's still foggy. That means there's water in the air."

Six doesn't reply. Mono doesn't blame her. Talking has already made what little moisture remaining in his mouth recede. 

He lies down on his corner of the raft, curling onto his side, and looks into the blend of fog and sea without taking any of the sight in.

* * *

The rain doesn't come. They do not talk the next day.

They don't do much of anything at all, actually.

* * *

"Lonely," rasps Six on their sixth day at sea. Mono stares dully at her until the sound reassembles itself into something coherent.

The world keeps spinning, now, much more than the usual rocking of the ocean waves. His limbs are leaden, his eyes rough and sunken. His head feels like it's being squeezed and stabbed at the same time. Nausea roils in his stomach, but Mono has nothing to throw up, anyway. The thirst pounds in his skull, an ever-existing, overwhelming presence. He's tried the seawater more than once, desperate for any sort of fluid, but it's so salty that he can't choke it down.

He doesn't know how Six can muster the strength to speak. His own throat feels glued shut. He's not sure what she's talking about, either. That might just be because Mono is having a hard time thinking in general, though. Fragments of thoughts form sluggishly in his mind but never quite connect. 

Then Six does something that neither of them, for their entire time at sea, have tried to do. Slowly, painfully, she crawls to Mono.

For all of their teamwork, Six has always kept her distance. She kept to her corner of the raft and Mono kept to his. That was the rule. Now it's broken.

A tiny spark of understanding connects in his mind.

(Lonely?)

(Sometimes.)

(That's a weakness.)

Being lonely is a weakness. Six knows that. Six is coming to Mono. Six is allowing herself to be lonely, allowing herself to be weak, because it doesn't matter anymore.

It doesn't matter, because this is the end of the line for them. The raft will keep on floating, and the fog will keep on swirling, and the waves will keep pushing them out to nowhere, uncaring of their existence— it doesn't matter that they're weak. They're doomed anyway.

This is Six's acceptance. It's her goodbye.

Mono's arms are so very, very heavy, but somehow he pushes himself up, inches towards Six. She wraps her hands plaintively around his back and presses her face into his shoulder, her small frame quaking with labored, ragged gasps. His hands are shaking with exertion, but he hugs her back— and that's what it is, a hug, even though it's uncomfortable and his leg is being twisted and neither can support their own weight.

He can't remember the last time someone's hugged him.

He enfolds Six's crumpled form in his arms, trembling. Everything hurts. His entire body feels like it'll break, dissolve into dust. But he's hugging Six, and for once in this miserable world, he doesn't feel alone.

It's the best moment of Mono's life.

He thinks he'd cry, if he had the tears.

Six is solid and warm against his chest. Mono's eyelids droop, a blanket of drowsiness slowly pressing down on him, replacing his pain with exhaustion. It's a good idea, sleeping. Maybe then things wouldn't hurt so bad.

He's about to close his eyes when the sound of a foghorn blasts in his eardrums. Wearily, he looks up.

A mountain of domed steel emerges from the mist.


	9. Out of the loop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know those memes joking about how Six betrayed Mono to be the protagonist of Little Nightmares again? Yeah, that's where this came from.

Six has always been able to loop. 

_(The Janitor snatches her midair, his thin, cold fingers wrapping tightly around her ribs—_

_She wakes on the cold floor, safe. Unharmed.)_

She's never questioned it. Looping is a part of Six because it just is, the way the Hunger looms in her shadow watchfully, the way the music box haunts her dreams.

Questioning it means there might be a reason behind why it's Six, why it's her and nobody else. Questioning it means that there might be a reason why she has it— and that means there might be a reason for her to lose it. Better to let sleeping dogs lie.

_(The Chef flies from the bed with a shriek, stubby hand closing around her neck—)_

But.

Six can't loop anymore, now. Couldn't when she woke in the cabin, couldn't when the building had crashed down on her, couldn't when the Thin Man had reached out to grip her soul, static ringing in her ears. She hasn't felt a single whisper from the Hunger. The melody singing in her blood is so soft, now, that she can barely hear it.

It makes her (scared) furious. This is all Six has, and it's fading. There isn't even a monster to blame.

_(And the Lady doesn't even touch her, Six simply is yanked up to greet her, limbs bound and cold, so very cold.)_

Mono is... naive. Useful. Foolish.

(Kind, too. Trusting. Helping. But being kind is a synonym for being foolish, nowadays.)

Despite this, Mono lives. He lives far longer than he should have, dodges attacks and swings pipes with practiced ease.

It's almost as if he knows what is coming next.

The suspicion is slow, but once it is planted, the roots dig deep into Six's head.

Now, with the smashing of the music box, with the destruction of Six's song, Six is sure. She catches Mono at the edge of the Signal Tower's influence, just like all the other times he's jumped, grip secure, and looks down at him, feeling vaguely regretful.

Mono is a good person. Mono is laughter and bravery and love. Mono is kind in a way Six will never be. In another time, maybe she would have decided that yes, this was good enough, being Mono and Six against the world. That Six could defend Mono's naivety with her cynicism, and Mono would safeguard Six's selfishness with his kindness. That they would be a team, and a damn good one at that.

But Six knows now. Whatever forces have given Six the loops, the hunger, the song— they have changed. Mono is the one, now, who the music will play for. Who time will exempt. Who maybe even Hunger will follow, bloodthirsty as it is for new power, new strength.

As long as Mono exists, Six is nothing. 

She will never let that happen.

The grin on Mono's face is dying. He knows. Good. It's the only thing Six can offer, really— a reason behind this all.

His lips move, barely audible. She hears it anyway, loud and clear.

"Please."

Six lets go.


	10. Blooper Reel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short movie AU where everybody's an actor and behind the scenes is chaos  
> Also, is it just me, or does the Hunter have that hole in his mask a lot lower in the actual game than the concept art?

"You're holding it the wrong way," Mono calls out, hiding a giggle underneath his paper bag. 

The Hunter sighs and flips the lamp around so that it faces forward. "Stupid mask," he grumbles, stomping through the grass. "How do they expect me to see anything through this potato sack?"

"There's a hole in it," Six points out, peering over a tree trunk.

Nobody can see the Hunter's face when he's dressed up onstage, but the slow, sarcastic head-tilt explains everything it needs to. "What, the hole centered over my mouth and not my eyes?"

Six tilts her own head, considering, then picks up a large stone. "Can you see this?" she says, and lobs it at the Hunter with surprisingly good accuracy. Mono gapes in disbelieved awe.

It turns out that, no, the Hunter cannot. The cameraman shouts in despair. "Cut! CUT!"

"Oops," says Six.

* * *

The Thin Man looks at the small, barren room. He looks back at the director, then coughs.

"This, uh, doesn't look very good for any chase sequences. Are you sure I'm supposed to be here?"

"Of course," says the director immediately. "We just need you to sit in this chair here, see?"

The Thin Man does not, but he sits anyway. (A job is a job, right?)

"Excellent! Now just wait here for the next scene." The director scribbles something in his clipboard. "I'll be off now!"

"Hang on, how long am I supposed to—"

The door shuts with a final _click_.

"—wait," the Thin Man finishes weakly. The room suddenly feels about ten times smaller than before.

He tries the handle. It doesn't budge.

"...they better be paying me well for this," he groans, feeling a headache already coming on. "I'm not joking. They better pay up for every second."

He waits for about half a minute, then sighs. "Fuck it. One, two, three…"

* * *

The director cowers under the Teacher's scornful gaze.

"You want to set up traps," she says witheringly, "in my school. Around _children_."

"Yes, well—"

"I was under the impression you'd be here to film, not mutilate others."

"This is a horror movie, ma'am— they'll all be heavily monitored—"

The Teacher presses her lips into a thin line and gives him a glare that says: _'I have taught students longer than your existence, Mr. Director. Do not test me. I will fail you and there will be no extra credit to save your sorry hide.'_

The director gulps. "OrwecoulduseCGI," he gulps out in one long breath, and scurries away. 

The Teacher gives a dry sniff of disdain as he flees.

* * *

"What a lovely little set-up you have here," says the Lady serenely, suddenly stepping into view as the director hurries to his next film location. He doesn't scream, but it's a near thing. "Such a shame I wasn't informed of it, considering that you _promised me a role_."

"Th-that wasn't contractual," he squeaks out as the Lady gazes at him coldly. "Your character died in the last movie and—"

"This is a prequel," declares the Lady. "You will give me a part."

"Wait, how did you know?"

A hint of smugness enters her posture. "So I am right."

"Now see here—" says the director indignantly, only to shut up at the Lady's raised eyebrow. The temperature in the room drops abruptly. "I'll, uh, come up with something," he mutters meekly. 

Why are the women in his cast so terrifying?

* * *

Six is getting hungry. And annoyed. They only have one more scene before lunch, but every take just seems to get _worse_.

Mono yelps, tripping over a rock as they act out their escape from the Signal Tower. Which is impossible, since they'd swept the stone walkway already. Twice.

"Again," shouts the cameraman.

"Hang on," says Mono, "maybe my shoelaces are untied—" He looks down at his bare feet.

"Oh."

For crying out loud. Six yanks Mono's arm. "Listen, just follow me," she hisses. "Do exactly what I do." 

_Please,_ she adds in her head. She needs lunch, darn it all.

Mono nods, thank goodness, and follows Six a step behind through the set. By some miracle, they make it all the way across the rock bridge without Mono falling into the net below, and then, when Six jumps and turns to catch Mono, it _works._ She stands still, shocked that they are finally done with this stupid scene.

Her nose itches.

Six's eyes widen in horror. No. She is not going to do this again because she sneezed. That is not happening, no way. Six wrenches her hand up to stifle the sneeze—

And watches blankly as Mono yelps and falls down into the abyss, hitting the net with a solid thud. 

Six doesn't feel anything anymore. Even her nose is numb. Six is dead inside, hollow and dark and empty. They're going to have to redo everything, and Mono will trip over his shoelace-less feet all over again, and Six and her lunch shall be those star-crossed lovers destined to never meet because she's going to die of _shame_ —

"It's amazing!" crows the director. "Utterly genius! How did I not see it myself?"

Mono grins from down below. "Really? Guess we're done then! Six, wanna get lunch?"

Nevermind. Six is _brilliant_.

* * *

"...seven thousand and twenty-one. Seven thousand and twenty-two. Seven thousand and twenty-three..." The door bursts open with a _bang_ and the Thin Man springs up, relieved. 

"You owe me—" he starts, (intending to say ' _seven thousand and twenty-four seconds of my life, pay up'_ or something to that effect) but is never given the chance. 

"Here you go," the director babbles and shoves someone in before closing the door again.

He looks at his new fellow ( ~~prisoner~~ ) room-mate. The Lady looks back at him.

"And what am I meant to be doing here?" she asks, eyeing the place skeptically. The Thin Man sighs.

"Wait," he says glumly. "I guess you can help me count. I was on seven thousand and twenty-five…"


	11. De-Mono-logy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the Little Nightmares universe and squashed it into a demon AU mold the best I could  
> also there's mentions of some sort of mafia/crime organization (?) thing too, don't ask

Mono's day starts out normally. 

He's woken by soft raps on the doorframe and the flick of a lightswitch. Breakfast is pancakes; Mono pours the batter onto the pan and Dad flips them. Then it's time for Dad to go to work.

Dad takes the fedora off the hatstand, shrugs his coat over his wings, and ruffles Mono's hair. 

"I'll be back soon," Dad says, like always. "Lunch is on the counter." 

Then he ignites their fireplace with a snap of his fingers and walks through the black flames, off to wherever he goes for his job. Mono doesn't know too much about the details. Dad's secretive like that. Being a demon lord must be cool, though; Dad rules one of Hell's biggest cities!

But it also means Dad has to take care of a lot of stuff, which leaves Mono by himself most of the day.

Mono counts his days by dinners. Dinnertime is when Dad comes back and Mono helps with the cooking, chattering on about the stories he read that day. Sometimes Dad brings discarded puzzles and games, and they try to figure how to play without the instruction manuals.

Until then, Mono has to wait at home, in the Signal Tower. He's not allowed to go outside, because Dad says there’s lots of rivals, even in the Pale City, and Mono isn't strong enough to fight them off yet. (He doesn't know anybody his age to visit, anyway.) And Mono's definitely not allowed to go to Earth. Not until he's grown his wings and mastered his powers, which will take _forever_.

So Mono settles in with his pile of books. He's looking through the encyclopedias (humans are so weird; when they eat food it comes out the other end and they use these things called toilets to get rid of it) when the fireplace flares again. 

Mono almost thinks it's Dad for a second, that maybe he had forgotten something at home— but no, these aren't Dad's usual black flames. The fire is a sharp, bright crimson instead, flickering wildly. Mono's only seen this color once before, but he knows what it means.

Someone's trying to summon Dad.

He frowns. Whoever's summoning will have to wait; Dad isn't home right now. Still, the curiosity gnaws at him. Nothing interesting ever happens at home like this. 

Who's summoning Dad? They're probably human, right?

Mono creases the corner of the page to mark his place (he should ask Dad for more bookmarks) and approaches the fireplace.

...Maybe he could tell them to come back later?

Hesitantly, Mono reaches out to touch one of the outermost flames. It's a mistake. The fire immediately flares to a deep, emerald green. Panicking, he tries to jerk away, but his hand is stuck.

The blaze sucks him in.

* * *

Mono faceplants into a hard, concrete surface. He groans.

"Oh," says a voice above him. "It worked."

He stands up, shaking off the wave of vertigo that accompanies it, and blinks at the floor. It's covered in a mess of reddish-brown streaks, an occasional lumpy candle planted where the lines meet. Huh.

Wait, the summoning!

Mono's eyes snap to his surroundings. He's in some sort of closet. The walls are lined with stacks of filing cabinets and cages. Apart from the candles, a weak lantern hanging from the ceiling is the only source of light. And in front of him is—

"You're the summoner?" says Mono doubtfully. The girl in front of him looks... unassuming. She's got a bright yellow raincoat on and isn't wearing any shoes. She's also tiny. 

Okay, well, she's Mono's size, but that's not very big. Humans get bigger than that, don't they?

The girl lifts up a lighter to inspect his face. "You're a demon?" she counters, unimpressed. "You don't look like one."

Mono squawks. "I so am a demon! I have my horns, and I'll have my wings soon too, you'll see!"

She hums. "Guess the eyes prove it," she mutters, flicking the lighter off. Right; humans don't have red eyes, and they certainly don't have slit pupils. She tilts her head. "I don't see any horns." 

Ignoring his protests, she reaches forward and pats his head, searching for the little nubs hiding under his hair. Mono swats her hand away.

"Why'd you try to summon Dad, anyway?" he says, scowling.

"Dad?"

Mono scowls even harder. "Just answer the question."

The girl shrugs. "I stole the directions to a ritual from Mom." She motions towards a thin manila folder laying on the floor. "Didn't think it would work, but I tried."

"You've got a mom?" says Mono, temporarily distracted. He's never had a mom, but a bunch of characters in his stories did, and they sounded nice.

(Years ago, when Dad was out working and Mono was bored, he'd gone to the very top of the Signal Tower and tried to slide all the way down the stairs with a loose wooden board. He'd only made it to the end of the first flight; the resulting crash left him with several splinters and long gash on his leg. Mono ended up sealing the wound with the jar of hellfire on the mantelpiece, and he was fine by the time Dad came home. Still.)

(He thinks it might have been nice, having somebody there. He remembers crying.)

"Yes," says the girl. "I'm trying to destroy her and steal her position of power."

Mono stares.

That's... not normal. Right?

"Mom doesn't think I'm old enough yet. She'll be quite proud when I pull it off." Her expression is completely deadpan, as if this explains everything. It doesn't. "We should make a contract now."

There's too many things for Mono to process here. "What about Dad?" he blurts out.

"I can't wait for your dad. I have school," she says flatly. "You're a demon so you're good enough. Can you suck out people's souls?"

"Souls aren't good for growing bodies," Mono recites, Dad's lectures practically burned into his mind. "I can teleport though."

He thinks of the room-jump he'd managed to do last week. It was the first big milestone in his powers, and Mono had been ecstatic. Dad baked a cake to celebrate.

"So you don't eat souls?"

"No."

She makes a face at that. Then a gong sounds in the distance. The girl hisses in irritation and sticks her hand out. "I have to go now. I'm Six. You help me when I tell you to. I'll owe you in return."

Mono isn't sure this is how people actually do contracts, but Six is looking at him impatiently. "I'm Mono," he says, taking the offered hand. They shake on it.

She steps back expectantly. A few seconds pass.

"Aren't you going to go back?" Six says at last.

Mono pales in realization. "Um..."

* * *

Six is late for school. RK waits all throughout homeroom; the desk beside him remains empty.

It makes RK worried. Normally being late doesn't mean anything, but this is Six.

Six, as long as RK has known her, has always been brutally efficient. When the power had gone out at school, Six pulled a lighter out of her raincoat and kept going. When the fire alarms had sounded, Six opened the window and slid down the drainpipe, calm and poised as ever. When a bully had tried to take her lunch money, Six unsheathed the knife strapped to her arm, and the fight had ended almost as soon as it started.

(She'd gotten reprimanded for the first two and suspended for the third, but that doesn't negate the fact that Six is ready for every situation this side of the Milky Way.)

Six is never unprepared, and never late. Something's up.

RK's suspicions are proven right when Six finally barges into class midway through first period, dragging behind her what appears to be a hostage with a paper bag over their head. The class, filled only a second ago with whispers and pen-clicking, instantly hushes. The teacher stops solving the math problem on the board, chalk hanging loosely from her fingers.

"Six, who is this?" she says, voice as uncertain as RK feels.

"My cousin," says Six. "He's visiting."

The teacher stares at Six. Six matches her gaze challengingly. 

RK can see the cut-out eyeholes on the paper bag, now, so he supposes there must be some form of truth to this ‘cousin’ visiting. (RK knows Six and her mom, and he refuses to entertain the idea of there being more of that family for both his sanity and the sake of humankind. Nope. As far as he's concerned, Six is the only child of her generation.) She hasn't kidnapped the kid, at least.

The ‘cousin’ looks between the two tentatively. "Er, hi," he says. "I'm Mo— um. Yeah. I'm Mo."

"Well, Mo," says the teacher slowly, "can you take your..." (she struggles for a moment to decide what to call Mo's paper bag) "...er, hat off? And did the office approve you visiting?"

"He's got a skin condition," Six says immediately, before Mo can get a word in. "And he's not allowed to go home. Mom's not there. He'll be unsupervised."

"His parents—?"

"They died," says Six. "That's why Mo's here."

RK looks at Mo, who seems confused. He certainly doesn't look like somebody who recently lost their parents.

"You can call my mom to check," Six says, when the silence grows too long.

Six's mom will agree with her, no matter what. RK knows it. Six knows it. The teacher knows it. Everybody does.

The teacher purses her lips. "Take a seat, we'll discuss this later."

Mo takes one of the empty desks in the front. Six drops into her usual seat next to RK. For a moment, RK debates jabbing her side and asking her what the hell is happening; in the end, though, he simply turns to a fresh page in his notebook and starts doodling.

He'll find out anyway, at lunch.

* * *

"He's not actually your cousin, is he?" RK asks as soon as Six and Mo set their lunch trays down. Mo glances around nervously, but this is Six's table, and it's been avoided by the student body ever since that knife stunt she pulled. Any onlookers are too far away to eavesdrop.

Six scoffs. "Of course not; Mom doesn't have siblings. He's a demon."

RK's first, instinctual reaction is a sigh of relief. He was right; Six's mom is an only child after all. Then the rest of her words catch up to him.

"He _what_ ," blurts RK. Six, though, is already devouring her chicken tenders, and RK knows better than to get between her and food. He turns to Mo instead, hoping he's misheard something.

Mo looks up from the broccoli he'd been poking at with his fork. "Yup, I'm a demon," he confirms, sounding far too cheerful for the situation. "My real name's Mono. Nice to meet you!"

"I'm RK," RK offers in return, because he's not rude. His food is going to get cold at this rate, but he doesn't care. "You're not serious, are you?"

Mo— no, Mono— presses the paper bag closer to his face and tilts so that the light catches just so. A flash of brilliant red gleams through the dark eyeholes.

RK's stomach drops. He rounds on Six.

"What did you do?!"

Six swallows the last of her meal, nonchalant as ever. "What?"

"You brought a demon to _school!"_

"Not my fault Mono doesn't know how to un-summon himself."

Mono ducks his head sheepishly.

"Not the point," groans RK. "Why'd you summon him in the first place?"

"To overthrow Mom, of course. I thought you knew this." Six frowns, assessing him. "You need to work more on your deductions. I can't have an incompetent spymaster when I take Mom's place."

"I'm not going to be your spymaster because of my basic social skills, Six. You'd be good at talking to people if you bothered to try," says RK, feeling a headache coming on. They've been through this a thousand times; unfortunately, RK is no closer to convincing Six of his disinterest than he is of discouraging her from matricide. 

He supposes he should be more shocked at the whole demon situation than he really is, but Six has shattered his worldviews long ago. At this point, he's just tired.

There is a rather big question about this entire thing, though. "Well, what are you going to do with Mono, then? Once school's over?"

Mono and Six share a look. 

"He can't go back to the Maw," says Six. "If Mom finds out I'll never hear the end of it."

"I only have to wait until dinner," Mono chips in. "Dad will know then. He'll pick me up."

Demons have dads? Nevermind, that's a topic for later.

RK takes a resigned bite of his macaroni and cheese. It's cold. He chews anyway. "So you need a place to stay till then?"

Six nods. "As private as possible, please."

He thinks. RK's house is available, of course, but his grandma would definitely make a fuss about it all and mention his friends to everybody she met the rest of the week, so that's out. Spoons is at the hospital, the Nome family's probably too many people to keep a secret with, and Lollipop has detention today. 

Maybe Ghost, then. Or Feather. That seems plausible.

"I think I can manage that," says RK.

Mono brightens and Six looks pleased. "Perfect," she declares. "Mom will never know."

* * *

The Lady sneezes.

"Bless you," says the Thin Man. Neither of them know the other's true name, but their titles suffice well enough. He straightens from a large cage, tendrils of black smoke still hovering around his suit. Soul fragments are clingy like that. 

"You seem to have a lot more today," he observes, eyes lingering over the fuller-than-usual cells.

One prisoner howls, wads of spit trickling down a thick double-chin. The Lady smacks their head with her fan.

_Thwack._

The wails cease.

"They came to us as Guests, funnily enough," she says calmly. "I suppose they didn't think the Maw would run a background check on them. They paid the price."

"What did they do?" he says. It's an idle question; the Thin Man can see the gluttony and greed roll off them in waves.

The Lady hums. "I don't think you'd like to know," she says. "You do become quite rash when you're angry, and I know you have a soft spot for children."

He can connect the dots. A dark flash of fury races through him. The Lady swiftly changes the subject.

"How's your son?"

The Thin Man breathes, concentrating on the question. "Mono's running out of bookshelves," he says after a moment. "I'm sure one day we'll wake up to find that the books have smothered us all."

She laughs, raising a hand to her porcelain mask. "I completely understand. Every inch of my bedroom is filled with death traps. Six hasn't considered smothering me yet, but it should occur to her sooner or later."

He shakes his head fondly. "You're crazy. Why do I associate with you?"

"Now, now, don't forget our contract. I supply you with the soul power needed to conquer the underworld—"

"—and you rule jointly with me once you're in Hell, yes. I'm well aware."

The Lady practically oozes satisfaction. "Exactly."

"You're lucky I like you."

She laughs again. This time it's softer, more gentle, but nonetheless just as joyful. "I know."

He doesn’t hide the smile that rises to his lips.

The Guest wails again.

_Thwack._


	12. Raining Knives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major Character Death.
> 
> Yeah, uh, as soon as I wrote this I realized it had to be in a double update so the next chapter could soften the blow. This is just depressing.

It's raining at the funeral. Strangers crowd around the little tombstone, huddling under mushroom-capped umbrellas. Dad herds Six and RK closer to him and Mom, standing tall amongst the crowd.

Six scratches at her black dress. She's not allowed to wear her raincoat today. Not even when it's raining.

It's the first time she's hasn't worn a raincoat in years.

Dad doesn't say a word until they bring out the casket. Then he breaks down into sobs. Mom hugs Dad, even though she said she'd never talk to him again. Today breaks all the rules, apparently.

The casket is lowered in the grave. 

It looks smaller than what it should be. Six had always thought Mono way taller than her, because he was her big brother. 

But Mono's not Six's big brother anymore. He isn't anything at all.

* * *

The police had sat Six and RK down and explained everything.

An accident, he'd said. That area of the park had been marked off as hazardous. The cliff overlooking the creek had a little waterfall streaming down it, and the rocks were steep and slippery.

This is true, Six knows. She'd been there.

He had wandered too close to the edge, the policeman said; Six was lucky she had stayed back.

Now this. This is false. Six knows it.

She'd been there, after all.

* * *

Six doesn't have go to school for a while.

She's glad. School was a Mono thing. He liked reading in the library, and running around at recess, and talking with friends at lunch. He had punched the bullies when they made fun of Six for not talking and RK for being weak. (He'd gotten detention, but the bullies stopped hitting Six after that.)

Instead of school, Six has to go to the doctor. He asks Six lots of questions she doesn't answer and scribbles words on clipboards that she can't read.

How are you feeling? Were you close to your brother? What do you think of your parents? Your friends?

Six doesn't like the doctor. He's fat and he has a big nose. His hands look like plump spiders when he writes, skittering across the page.

She sits in the chair and waits and waits and waits. Sooner or later he has to let her go.

Mono would rescue her, she thinks. He'd barge in and take her away from the doctor, and the doctor would get mad and chase Six with those spider-hands, and Mono would whack them dead like he did to the real spiders in Six's bed. They'd run back to the waterfall, laughing all the way.

* * *

The waterfall was Six and Mono's spot. They went there when Dad came back home, because that was when Mom and Dad started shouting at each other.

"It'll get better soon," Mono had said, early on. "They're Mom and Dad. They love each other."

It didn't.

When Mom and Dad fought, RK went to his friend's house. Mono could have done that too, but Six didn't have friends. So Mono took Six to the park.

Nobody went to the waterfall. They had it all to themselves. Six would steal food from the pantry and Mono would make little stick forts by the stream. They ate their snacks on the cliff, watching the water trickle by.

It was theirs.

* * *

Six eventually has to go back to school. She and RK wait for the schoolbus by the driveway. They haven't talked since the funeral.

The bus groans as it turns the corner, bright and yellow. Before it comes, RK looks at Six.

"Your fault," he says.

The bus stops. The doors open. 

Six sits alone at the back of the bus.

_Your fault,_ RK had said. 

This is true. Six knows.

She'd been there.

* * *

School is bad. The bullies do not stop with Mono gone, and the teachers do not see. Six hides and dreams.

In Six's dreams, Mono saves her from the bullies. He hits them and their stupid empty heads shatter open.

At home, Mom and Dad don't fight anymore. Six can't tell if that's better or worse.

RK and Six overhear Mom making phonecalls. She wants to move away and take them with her. It hurts and hurts but not like it used to. Now it's an empty hurt. It doesn't matter as much anymore.

Dad doesn't do anything. He just sits and stares and looks sad.

In Six's dreams, Mono takes her away. He sneaks both of them out to the forest. But Mono is not here.

So Six goes alone.

* * *

It's the beginning of winter. The wind is cold and the trees are bare. The waterfall still trickles down the cliff.

Six sits.

* * *

That day, the fighting had been really bad. They had stood on the cliff, looking down.

"I don't think Mom and Dad will make up," said Mono at last. It was the first time he had talked about them since they'd found the waterfall. 

And then: "I think they're going to divorce."

And Six couldn't stand it. She couldn't.

Because Mono was Dad's favorite, and RK was Mom's. Six? Six was nobody's. Six was mute and rude and angry all the time. They would leave her behind.

So she screamed. She screamed and cried and shoved, and—

She forgot they were on a cliff. She forgot.

* * *

In Six's dreams, Mono jumps over steep hillsides and broken stairs and breaking bridges. She catches him every single time.

She has to. 

Mono was Dad's favorite and RK was Mom's, and maybe that wasn't fair. But Six was Mono's favorite. She had always been. She just hadn't seen it when she needed to most.

_Your fault,_ said RK, and it is. 

The waterfall is the same as ever when Six sits next to it. But it's not. The waterfall had been for Mono and Six. Now there's only Six. The better half of them is gone.

Six can catch Mono in her dreams all she wants. It won't change anything.

Mono is dead.


	13. Little Nightmares II Any% Speedrun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this. Why did I write this
> 
> Also, Mono the Speedrunner never introduces himself to Six (c'mon, there's no time for that) so Six just calls him "boy" the whole time

Six skitters under the table as the axe crashes through the door one final time. A boy stands on the other side, wearing a fedora, face impassive.

He drops the axe and offers a hand, but he's not really paying attention to her at all. In fact, he's mumbling.

"This would be an any% speedrun, yes... the cutscenes are pretty long, but we should be able to get a skip in here."

Six frowns, reaching for his hand. She can make a break for it, she reasons, as soon as—

Lightning-fast, the stranger snatches Six's hand and pulls her out of the room, dashing up the basement stairs. Six stumbles after him in wild confusion, barely keeping up.

"See? Frame-perfect execution!" the boy crows.

It is around this time that Six decides she hates him.

* * *

Six hides behind a wooden crate, feeling utterly annoyed. 

The boy strolls through the Hunter's blaze of gunfire, leaning and sidestepping at odd times to conserve every single movement.

"Thanks for the prime, wazartii!" he says, grinning as the Hunter reloads frustratedly. "Thanks for the subs, sabreB, kal_zone, AnimeTacos24!"

Six runs for the next crate, intending to shove him as she runs past, but he dodges as easily as ever. Then he grabs Six's hand again, breaking into a run, and Six is once again dragged behind him like a particularly unruly dog.

Six looks back at the Hunter as they leave. A spark of pained understanding flashes between them.

No escape is worth this, she thinks— but the boy is talking a mile-a-minute and going so fast her arm feels like it might fall off, and the Hunter is left far, far behind.

* * *

The boy won't sit still as they ride the broken door across the ocean. He shuffles against the edges of the raft and jumps sporadically.

"This is one of the longer unskippables. Oh, but right after this there should be a very good out-of-bounds glitch..."

As soon as they land, he's up and pacing along the shoreline, holding tight to Six's hand. She's tried to break the hold more than once, but his grip is iron-clad.

"It's a sub-pixel position, but I've gotten it before. Nah, this shouldn't be a reset if I don't get it. I'm only aiming for a sub-60, not a PB."

He stops. "Here we are!" he says, staring at a patch of sand that looks exactly the same as all the others. Then the boy twists, and the world suddenly flattens into lines as Six sinks through the ground.

They emerge in a dilapidated room with a TV. Six reels in shock (what just _happened_ ) while the boy pumps his fist.

"Okay, so we got the skip. We just have to get through the last two chapters— thank you xXx_n00bslayer_xXx for the sub! Now we trigger the Thin Man's cutscene by going in here."

He tugs Six to a bedroom in the adjacent corridor. There is a long, tall person standing frozen in the doorway that the boy simply walks straight through, like some sort of mirage. 

As soon as Six follows, of course, the man moves into action and reaches out, static crackling. Six writhes wildly as she is seized by an invisible hand and lifted into the air. The boy waves at her from under the bed, looking quite happy with himself.

"After this, we should only have three more cutscenes and we'll be golden!"

Six screams with rage as she fizzles out of reality.

* * *

Six stares at the boy's face, heart racing. 

She has him at her mercy, now. The stone bridge crumbled, and Six caught him. Her hand is the only thing keeping him from falling into the abyss below.

She's going to let go; there's nothing the boy can say to stop her. He's tormented Six for long enough. Now it's her turn.

Her mouth splits into a bloodthirsty grin.

She's going to savor it.

The boy looks back at her, eyes widening. Good; make him suffe—

"Dude, oh my god oh my god, I think this might be a WR!"

Her smile instantly fades. What?

"Poggers!" he cries, and twists his hand out of her grip. He plummets to the depths below. Six stares, hand still outstretched.

Slowly, she finds her voice.

"What the _fuck—"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have two questions for you guys!
> 
> I'm pretty much done with the list of prompts I made when LN 2 first released. I have some more ideas that have popped up to me, but I'd also like to hear from you. 
> 
> So:
> 
> 1\. Is there a prompt/premise for Little Nightmares you'd like to see?
> 
> And 
> 
> 2\. Is there something I've already written you'd like to see expanded upon?
> 
> Thanks y'all :)


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